Jane Doe
by Sara Sidle Grissom
Summary: After working the serial killer case, Grissom has to get help. But what if everything you thought you knew, turns out to be a lie? WIP GSR Dark fic!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Dedication: This entire fic is dedicated to **Mel**, for helping me out the kinks in the story line and talking me through it when I needed it. This one is for you sis!

A/N: Thanks a lot to **Roch** for the betaing, you did an awesome job! Before anybody starts flaming away, this fic is not the usual drama, it's heavy stuff. If you don't like it, that's alright, just close the window and don't blame it all on me. This is part of my mind and in this way I want to practice my writing techniques, I don't want to write what people want me to write. No, I want to write what I like. Alright, that said, I hope you enjoy it. This is a short prologue, more to follow soon!

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**Prologue**

_The shrill noise of his ringing cell phone woke Jim Brass from his deep slumber. After slowly rubbing his tired eyes, he flicked his on bedside lamp and checked the caller ID: 'S. Sidle.' He frowned as he picked up, letting out a yawn._

"_Sara?" he murmured, not getting any reply. He let out a sigh as he propped himself up with one hand. Leaning his head against the wall, he repeated her name, but still got no response._

_What he heard next worried him: ragged breathing on the other line, followed by a scream that caused a chill to run up his spine. "Sara!" He called out loudly again. "Get on the phone!"_

_But she didn't talk to him. He only heard her screams and somebody with her, although he couldn't make out a clear voice. "No, don't hurt me," she was crying; then he heard a _thwack_, then__ a choking sound. _

_Jim immediately jumped up from his bed, putting the phone between ear and shoulder, getting dressed as fast as he could. He didn't hang up on her, he listened to every sound that was coming from the other line, to make sure she was still holding on._

"_Don't worry Sara, I'm on my way. I'm going to find you," he muttered into the phone. It was a futile gesture by him on her part, as she couldn't hear him, but it comforted him somewhat._

_He put on his blue light as he got in his car, not giving a shit about breaking the regulation that said blue lights were forbidden when not working. He drove quickly to the crime lab, continuing to mutter soothing words through the phone, hoping it would give her strength to fight. She needed to be strong, they couldn't afford to lose her. Jim felt a pain in his heart as he thought about losing her, losing a person who was more of a daughter to him than Ellie. _

_He knew she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. He could hear choking sounds and the sound of somebody kicking her. He swore he could even hear her bones break at the force. _

_Jim's eyes widened at the sound as he sped down the busy Las Vegas streets. He pushed the speed limit as much as he dared, hoping the lab could trace down her cell phone's location. _

_Once he arrived at the LVPD parking lot, he jumped out, not locking the car. He ran along the shiny corridors in desperation, needing to find people he knew, all the while keeping his phone to his ear. _

_He ran into Warrick and Nick as he went into the break room. "Guys, I need your help," he said, totally out of breath. He handed his phone to Nick and watched as he passed it on to Warrick, the two younger men sharing a horrified expression._

"_I need to find Sara, and I need your help to do it," Jim explained, fearing for her life. _

_The guys nodded and led him towards the AV-lab. "Archie, I need the location of Sara's cell phone at this moment," Warrick stated, a command more than a request. They all watched the screens in the AV lab, urgently looking for her. She wasn't where they expected her to be…_

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**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. 

Dedication: This entire fic is dedicated to **Mel**, for helping me out the kinks in the story line and talking me through it when I needed it. This one is for you sis!

A/N: Thanks a lot to **Roch** for the betaing, you did an awesome job! Before anybody starts flaming away, this fic is not the usual drama, it's heavy stuff. If you don't like it, that's alright, just close the window and don't blame it all on me. This is part of my mind and in this way I want to practice my writing techniques, I don't want to write what people want me to write. No, I want to write what I like. Alright, that said, I hope you enjoy it. Here is the first chapter, it didn't take me too long. Just beware that updates can take longer in the future, uni is busy.

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**Chapter 1**

The sun was peeking shyly over the horizon, its rays travelling over the city, introducing the new day. It was still early in the morning, but the heat was already noticeable when you looked out over the buildings. You could see the heat hanging in the air, it dropped a heavy blanket over Sin City, a blanket underneath which you could find hope for a better life, greed and hate. Even this early…

Jim Brass, a man always on the look-out for crime, was now sitting in his car, done with work as he watched the people starting to wake up, preparing to live yet another dreary day.

Now, he was on his way to a friend, or at least somebody he used to call a friend. He wasn't sure what Gil Grissom was to him these days, not sure if he knew him at all.

He let out a sigh and drummed his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, a little nervous about having to face him again. Gil Grissom had become a different man, and it scared Jim. This was going to be the first day he would see Grissom after all that had happened, and he wasn't sure what to expect.

Finally the traffic moved and Jim parked his car in the lot, walking to the reception desk and flashing his badge. The woman there inspected his ID, as if making sure it was a real one, then told him to go outside to the park. She gave him directions and told him Grissom would be ready to talk to him in a few minutes.

He followed the directions and found the park without any difficulty. He sat down and nervously fiddled with his hands. He looked around a bit, looking at all the people walking around in here. This wasn't right. 'Gil Grissom is not like them, is he?' Jim thought. 'He doesn't belong here.'

The people walking around here were crazy or… emotionally unstable. People here didn't belong in the outside world, they were a danger to the population. Maybe because they had committed something horrible, or maybe because they put other people in danger by endangering their own lives. Deep down he knew Grissom had been like that as well, and that it had been a good decision to put him in a place like this until the trial could start.

The trial - that was going to be a hard one and he wasn't sure if he would be able to be a witness in the whole case. Of course, he _was_ a witness, but he doubted if he could testify. Testify for a friend by testifying against a friend.

"Jim, good to see you," came the voice from behind him. Jim turned quickly to see Grissom approaching him. He forced a smiled and made some room on the bench so Grissom could sit next to him. "How have you been?"

Jim forced a smile. "I've managed," he confessed, having had a hard time since the it all. He studied Grissom for a moment. He looked like the man he used to be, and it confused Jim. Had it all just been a bad dream?

"How is she?" Grissom asked, his voice dropping a bit. His eyes sought out Jim's, the question visible in the blue and Jim noticed he looked older than he truly was.

"Gil…" He started, letting out a deep sigh as he remembered the horror on Sara's face when he had found her. He shook his head to make the image disappear. "She's still in the hospital… it's critical," he said, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. Sara was like very close family to him - he loved her just as much as he loved his own daughter, and seeing her in the condition she was in at the moment cut him deep.

Grissom looked down at his feet. "Oh," was the only thing he said, a small tear rolling down his cheek. He looked back up at Jim and swallowed. "Do you think she will come see me when she's better?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Jim looked at the man sitting next to him. "I'm sorry… I don't think she will, Gil. And I hope you can understand and accept that," he said, emotion audible in the tone of his voice. "But I will ask her to write you a letter, do you think that's okay?" he asked.

Grissom nodded wearily. "Yeah, I suppose," he said. "I uh… I'm sorry for what happened, she knows that right?" He asked.

Jim looked at his hands. "Yes, she does," he lied, just to make Grissom a little more comfortable when they would have to talk about it. "About that Gil… Could you tell me what happened, from the beginning?"

Grissom looked confused. "You know what happened right, or least of all, you think you know what happened," he said, his gaze dark, and for a moment Jim thought he would stand up and walk away. But his look softened again. "I thought I taught everybody to be objective, but clearly you're the only one listening. You're the first one coming to ask me about my side of the story."

"Gil, this isn't just a regular case, you know that right?" Jim asked.

Grissom nodded. "Yes, of course I know. But objectivity is always important, if it involves your own or not. Always make sure you see both sides of the story," he lectured. "But you didn't come here to talk about objectivity, so I'll give you the information you need."

"You're not saying she asked for it. Are you?" Jim frowned at Grissom's comment about objectivity. He'd heard those stories a lot, every single time a man would abuse a woman, he would say she deserved it, or that she had asked for it.

"No," Grissom said immediately, shock written all over his face.

Jim nodded at Grissom's former question as he remembered the part where he came in, and he'd heard Sara tell what had happened before that, but he was curious to the other side of the story as he waited for Grissom to talk.

"I think you remember it all started with the case we were working on," Grissom said as he looked out in the distance, remembering. "We couldn't catch him, even though we spent hours looking over the evidence."

"Sometimes it's best to just let go," Jim said and nodded his head a bit.

Grissom chuckled. "Not with this guy, he doesn't deserve to be walking around freely. He needs to be convicted for the damage he's done to so many people. But well, that started it all. Too many sleepless nights it caused, too many fights, but it didn't bring enough evidence." Grissom let out a deep sigh and clasped his hands together. "That's when it really started…"

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Dedication: This entire fic is dedicated to **Mel**, for helping me out the kinks in the story line and talking me through it when I needed it. This one is for you sis! From now on it's also dedicated to **Kristy** altough she might not be reading this... but just for being my biggest fan! Thanks Kris! And my last dedication: my super best buddy **Kacee**! You rock sis, and I wouldn't know what to do without ya!

A/N: Before anybody starts flaming away, this fic is not the usual drama, it's heavy stuff. If you don't like it, that's alright, just close the window and don't blame it all on me. This is part of my mind and in this way I want to practice my writing techniques, I don't want to write what people want me to write. No, I want to write what I like. Updates may be coming slow, please be patient. Uni is very demanding!

Reposted in a beta-ed edition. Sorry Roch, I forgot you'd beta-ed it already. Thanks!

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**Chapter 2**

Six months earlier: 

Looking around the labs for Grissom, Sara was comforted by the beeps emitted from various machines around her - they made her feel at home. She found him in his office, a place that had, for the past few days now, become his sanctuary. Sara leaned against the doorframe as she watched him focusing on the miniature crime scene.

"Why don't you come home?" she asked. "Take another look tomorrow, with fresh eyes," she pleaded, smiling softly."

She received no response, Gil being totally absorbed, and he didn't look up when she called out his first name. Driven to an extreme, she closed the door behind her, and uttered, "Honey, please, come home."

That did the trick - he looked up, startled. Then he gave a small smile and let out a sigh. "Sara… I thought we'd agreed we wouldn't use terms of endearment at work," he said gently, removing his glasses and looking at her for a moment. Then he turned to the mini structure again. "I found something new," he said, grabbing object with the tweezers and showing it to her.

She walked closer, leaning with her hands flat on the desk and looking at an object he was holding with his tweezers. "A photo?" she questioned, grabbing the tweezers from his hand, teasingly brushing his hand, giving him a slight grin, which he returned.

"Looks like an eye. Do you think it's a sign?" she asked, handing the tweezers back to him, a frown tinting her pretty features.

"I don't know. It could be. What do _you_ think?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips, always wanting to hear her opinion.

Sara smiled back at him shyly and looked at the set. "I think he's trying to tell us something. Hey, maybe that photo is at the real crime scene as well! It could mean that he's picked the next victim. Or…" She stopped for a moment. "It could mean he's keeping an eye on us."

Grissom raised his eyebrow. "Keeping an eye on us? Sounds like an interesting theory… although it could also mean we only have a small piece of the puzzle," he declared, standing up from the desk. "But you're right, we need to head home."

Sara smiled sweetly at him, giving him a very quick kiss that caught him off guard. "Sorry about that, just had to," she giggled.

Grissom raised his eyebrow and gave her a gentle grin. "PA on the clock," he said, giving a shrug. "That's a first," he added and opened his office door.

Sara smiled as she followed him, not too close, in case anybody should notice. Afterwards, when they got outside, she got in her car and followed him to their house. She looked at him pulling into the driveway as she waited for him to get out, so she could park her car next to his. "Almost beat you," she joked.

"We'd better keep an eye on the speeding tickets," he chuckled, holding the door open for her and giving her a soft kiss on her cheek.

She playfully punched his arm as she walked in, dropping her coat and going into the kitchen to grab herself some water. "You want some as well?" she called out, getting a salad from the fridge.

"No thanks," he replied, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the left side of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. He grabbed the tv-guide and perused it, seeing if there were any interesting documentaries they could watch together.

Sara made her way back into the living room, sitting next to him and propping her feet on the couch next to her. She leaned casually against him as she took a bite of her salad. She held out the fork, which was adorned with tomato and lettuce, to Grissom, who accepted graciously.

"Hmmm, you know that this stuff is too healthy," he joked.

Sara giggled as she put the plate on the table, grabbing the water bottle and taking a sip. She replaced the bottle on the table and snuggled closer against him, closing her eyes. "Gil?" she murmured.

"Yeah?" he responded as he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side.

"Do you think Ecklie knows?"

Grissom raised his eyebrow as he looked at her, gently tracing his finger along her cheek. "I don't know, and I didn't tell him, if _that's _what you mean," he said, wondering for a moment if somebody might have found out.

Sara looked at him. "Of course I didn't mean that, I know you would never tell him voluntarily," she said.

- - - - -

That night Grissom woke bathed in sweat. He took in his surroundings as he leaned his head against the headboard, breathing hoarsely. "Just a dream," he muttered to himself as he turned on his side, looking at Sara, who was sleeping peacefully.

He softly traced his finger over her cheek and leaned in to kiss her forehead. Then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, making his way on wobbly legs to the bathroom. He took a good look at himself in the mirror and let out a deep shaky sigh. He had been subjected to reoccurring nightmares ever since they'd found Dusty.

He stood in the shower, rinsing the panic sweat not just from his body, but his mind. The hot water streamed down his naked body, making him forget about everything outside the shower door for a moment. Right now it was just him, and the hot water.

Sara let out a small groan as she heard two beepers sound off. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and propped herself on one elbow, grabbing both beepers from the nightstand. Same case, a four-nineteen just south of the Aladdin.

"Gil?" She called out, as she reluctantly left the warm bed, wrapping the sheets around her body. She knocked tentatively on the bathroom door and waited for him to answer.

"Yeah?" he asked, peeking his head out of the door.

"We've got a four-nineteen," she said, stifling a yawn and giggling a bit. "Sorry, lack of sleep," she whispered and winked at him, before going back into the bedroom to change into her work clothes.

- - - - -

About an hour after they had received the page, Grissom and Sara walked to the crime scene, cases in hand. They met Brass in the driveway and put the kits on the ground. "What've we got?" Grissom inquired, watching a rookie cop evacuate his stomach contents just outside the front door.

He furrowed his brows a bit. 'Scene contamination,' he thought, 'Great.' He turned his gaze back to Brass and waited.

Jim had cottoned on. "Don't blame him, it's bad inside there," he said. "Victim's name is Kelly Reynolds, twenty-three. Her boyfriend found her, paramedics had to take him to the hospital. Poor guy looked like he couldn't even remember his own name."

Sara nodded. "We'll have a talk with him later," she said.

"No you won't. Or at least Gil won't," a voice came from behind them. It was Ecklie. The tall, rat-faced man gave them both a short nod. "You've put too much time into these cases already, take a break," he said.

Both Grissom and Sara opened their mouths to say something, but Ecklie stopped them. "I called Catherine to cover it, she'll be here soon. You can do the pre-investigation, then you hand it over," he said.

Sara pursed her lips, then nodded slowly. "Alright, Grissom?" she asked, using the name she's always called him, not wanting to draw attention.

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, sure. We'll take pictures and collect what we can now, and inform Catherine."

Ecklie gave another short nod. "Gil, Sara, Jim," he said, excusing himself and driving off.

Sara looked at Grissom. "No, don't say anything. It's for the best, let it go," she said softly, reaching out a hand to his cheek for a moment.

Brass noticed the gesture and cleared his throat, giving them a gentle smile as they blushed a bit. He'd suspected they were a couple, they just never told him.

Grissom grabbed his case and waited for Sara to follow him inside the house. He held the door open for her, and the scent of blood immediately invaded his nostrils. A lot had been spilled he noticed as they entered the living room, finding the victim face down on the floor.

"What do you think?" he asked Sara, looking up at her as he kneeled down next to the body. He waited for her answer as he looked around the room.

Sara bit her lip. "No defensive wounds visible on her hands as far as I can see. Stabbed in the back multiple times. Pure rage, blood spray everywhere," she said as she looked around the room, pointing at the ceiling, the windows and the furniture. "First stab must have been fatal, there's no sign she moved around."

Grissom nodded. "Nobody wants to go through that pain multiple times," he said, looking at the knife, still in the victim's back.

Sara swallowed as she walked in the direction of the dinner table. "Griss? Another miniature," she said as she took a photo before lifting the top, gazing down at the exact copy of the room.

"Damn," Grissom cursed as he came to stand close behind her, looking at the miniature. He looked how the blood spatter was exactly the same. "This has to be made _de facto_," he said. "He couldn't have known how the scene would look."

Sara nodded, looking up when she heard a car engine outside. "That must be Catherine," she said, shooting Grissom a brief look.

His head bobbed up, and they both saw Catherine and Nick walk in. "Hey guys," Catherine greeted as she walked up to them. "Another one?"

Both nodded and explained what they thought went down, before turning to leave. "Good luck you two," Sara said as they were called to their new scene.

- - - - -

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Dedication: This entire fic is dedicated to **Mel**, for helping me out the kinks in the story line and talking me through it when I needed it. This one is for you sis! From now on it's also dedicated to **Kristy** altough she might not be reading this... but just for being my biggest fan! Thanks Kris! And my last dedication: my super best buddy **Kacee**! You rock sis, and I wouldn't know what to do without ya!

Thanks: **Roch **for the beta, you're doing an awesome job on this stuff!

A/N: Before anybody starts flaming away, this fic is not the usual drama, it's heavy stuff. If you don't like it, that's alright, just close the window and don't blame it all on me. This is part of my mind and in this way I want to practice my writing techniques, I don't want to write what people want me to write. No, I want to write what I like. Updates may be coming slow, please be patient. Uni is very demanding!

**

* * *

Chapter 3 **

"Griss, are you coming?" Sara asked from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame as he checked himself in the mirror. "Your appointment is in an hour, you _know_ traffic is a pain at this time."

Grissom looked up at her, giving her a small but forced smile. "I'm coming honey, just wait one minute. Why don't you get the car started?" he suggested, waving her off as he turned back to his own reflection.

He let out a deep sigh when she was gone. He didn't want to go, didn't want to seem weak. But this case had gotten to him, had affected him more than any other cases they'd ever worked on. Of course he knew that when he chose this job, one of the consequences was the fact that they wouldn't be able to always catch the killer. He thought he'd come to terms with that, but on days like this he realized that no-one ever _really_ did, no matter what they might say.

With another sigh, and a flick of his wrist on the tap, he splashed some cold water on his face and grabbed a towel. He had to do this for the sake of their relationship. Since this case, he hadn't really been there for Sara, and the guilt it caused him was near unbearable. At first he would've thought she would run off to somebody, but in the time they'd been together he had found out that she would never just leave him alone.

After drying up, he hurried out of the house, locking the door behind him, and joined Sara in the car. She was looking at him, but he didn't look back, he didn't want to see the pity on her face right now.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, putting her hand on his thigh and squeezing. From the corner of his eye, as he smiled, he saw her do the same "Gil, it'll be _fine_," she insisted. "Admission is the first step to getting better," she continued in sweet tones, comforting him like she always had.

"Yeah, I just don't want to seem weak," he admitted, allowing her to see his vulnerability.

"You're not weak Gil. This happens to everybody sometimes, look at me," she whispered. "I've been with my PEAP counselor for weeks, and I didn't want to go there, I didn't want to be "weak." But it helped, it really did. You'll be fine, nobody is going to laugh at you for seeking help."

He smiled softly at her and nodded. "Thank you Sara, for being here," he said as he grabbed the hand that still rested on his leg. He gave it a loving squeeze and let out another sigh. "Let's go," he said as Sara pulled out of the driveway.

- - - - -

"Nick, come take a look at this," Warrick called out, camera in one hand, tweezers in the other. The tweezers gripped something for his friend to examine.

Nick looked up and squinted his eyes a bit, looking at the object Warrick was holding. He frowned. "Part of a photo, maybe. What do you think?"

Warrick shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I know Grissom found something similar in the other miniature," he said, grabbing a small paper bag and putting the photo in it, labeling the bag with his initials, the location, case and date.

"Nothing in the rest of the house," Catherine said, entering the room with a deep sigh. "This room seems to be the only one he uses throughout the whole house; all the other rooms look untouched," she said, setting her kit down and looking at her younger co-workers.

Warrick let out a small chuckle. "You assume it's a guy then?"

Catherine nodded and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Yeah, I mean… let's face it. Men are still in the majority when it comes to committing crime, at least crime of _this_ nature," she said.

Nick let out a huff and grinned. "Men got the name. But I gotta tell you Cath, I've had some female killers in the past years as well. Let me tell you this, this 'guy' or whoever he is might be, is nothing compared to some women we've seen."

Catherine chuckled. "You don't have to go defending the male population here Nicky," she joked as she patted his shoulder. "So… you guys found anything interesting in this room?"

Nick threw his hands up in the air helplessly as he looked at Warrick. "They're all the same 'Rick, I tell ya, all the same."

Warrick chuckled and looked at Catherine. "I found a small picture that might go with one Grissom found at another scene."

"You bagged it?" Catherine asked, brushing another strand of hair from her face. She smiled shyly as Warrick nodded his confirmation. "Alright, let me help you guys finish processing this room and then we're all set to go back to the lab."

- - - - -

"Mister Grissom?" the secretary asked, smiling down at the couple in the waiting room. "She'll see you now," she said politely and stood aside when they got up.

Both Grissom and Sara shook her hand as she extended it. "Amy Gordon," she said.

Grissom nervously smiled at Sara as she wrapped her arm around his waist. "Are you coming with me?" he asked as he wrapped his arm around her.

She nodded and smiled softly. "If you want me to come, I'll come."

He took in a breath and walked after Amy, together with Sara. "I don't want you to come, I need you to," he said once Amy let them into a big office. She gestured to the couch where they could sit down to wait for the psychologist to come in.

Sara squeezed his hand for a last time as the door opened and a tall, brown-haired woman came in. Both Grissom and Sara rose to their feet to greet her. But she waved them off and faked a small smile.

"I'm Melinda Jenssen, I assume you must be Gil Grissom," she nodded, putting her glasses on the tip of her nose, looking over the rims at Grissom.

When he nodded she looked to Sara. "And you are?"

Sara looked up at her. "I'm Sara Sidle, his uhm… his wife," she said.

"Well, I have to inform you that this is a one-on-one appointment, you'll have to wait outside the door for your husband," Melinda said coolly, opening the file and looking at Sara.

Sara turned her gaze to Grissom once again, questioningly.

Grissom looked from her to Melinda. "I have no problem with her being here, I have no secrets from her… and I want her to be here," he said.

Melinda looked up, closing the file again. "I understand that you want to be in this together. But I can assure you your husband will be fine, I won't take long," she said.

Sara nodded and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll be in the hallway," she whispered, grabbing her purse and heading out. She could feel the fierce stare of the psychologist on her back and couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the idea of Grissom being alone with the woman.

Inside the room, Melinda had asked Grissom various questions about his date of birth and how he grew up, claiming it was important to know the background of her patients before they could discuss the reasons why a patient might seek the help of a psychologist.

He told her everything he thought would be relevant, but hid the things he didn't think relevant and too personal to share. Like the fact his work used to be his life, the only thing keeping him sane - he just didn't want to share that. The only one he could talk about that was Sara, and Sara wasn't in the room.

"So what you're saying, is that you're here because you're afraid you can't do your job anymore?" Melissa asked, tapping a pen on the file in her lap, where she'd occasionally made notes.

He nodded. "This last case has been taking up so much of my time, and I'm afraid that I can't be objective anymore. I want this man to be caught, and I'm willing to do everything to ensure that specific outcome."

She wrote a few notes down again and nodded. "So the want of justice is stronger than the want of having your wife in your arms?"

He shook his head, his eyes going a little wider. "No, but this man has been controlling my life the past few weeks. And I'm afraid that because of him I'll get even more drawn into my work. I don't want to hurt Sara," he said, whispering the last part, regretting he'd come here.

Melinda took some more notes. "Excuse me," she said and stood up from her chair, going around to her desk, grabbing a small case and putting it next to her chair before sitting down again. "So what makes you think you'll be completely drawn to your work? I mean, when she's there for you, the need to work isn't as strong, right?"

He swallowed and thought up at good reply, but he knew he had to be honest. "Before Sara came in my life, I worked a lot of hours a week. She'd always been there for me, but I never realized it, because my job was consuming me. That's how I know I can go back to that, but I don't want to do that to her. It cost her too much to reach me and pull me out of that shell," he confessed, emitting a deep sigh.

"Well then," she nodded and grabbed the little box from the floor. "I have my own collection of relaxing music, I know it's a little different from what you expected…"

"I didn't expect anything," Grissom cut her off.

"Alright, but these tapes will help you relax at night, set your mind completely off events from the day. You'll have to listen to this with headphones on, so you won't disturb your wife. I'll give you a series of seven tapes, and I'll expect you back a week from now," she said, handing the little box to him.

Grissom nodded and thanked her. Shaking her hand as he left the room, searching for Sara in the hallway. He found her a few feet from the door, a coffee cup clasped between her hands, steam dancing across her features. He took his time to admire her, before walking over to her, taking big steps.

She looked up at him when he got close and smiled softly. "You okay?" she asked, reaching out one of her hands to caress his cheek lovingly.

He nodded. "I'm okay," he swallowed, leaning into her gentle touch. "Come on, I want to go home," he said and waited for her to finish her coffee.

When she was done he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her out of the building, and towards their car. He put the box with tapes on the floor between his feet and slid in the passenger side. He let out a relieved sigh and turned to face her.

"Although you couldn't be with me, I'm glad you came," he said, a hint of tears evident in his voice. "I'm glad you finally made me come to my senses," he whispered as he raised his hand to cup her cheek.

Sara gave him a sweet smile and put her hand over his. "I'm glad you finally realized and came out to me. And I'm also glad that you agreed to seek for help," she said as she interlaced her fingers with his. "I love you," she whispered as a few tears ran down her cheeks.

"I love you too," he said, brushing away her tears.

- - - - -

Once they'd arrived in the lab, the rest of the team brought the things they found to the evidence room, putting the bags on the table. Catherine took responsibility for the miniature, while Nick and Warrick stooped to look at the smaller evidence: some smudged fingerprints, which probably weren't good enough to be processed, and a baseball.

It seemed that this killing had gone a little faster than planned, and the killer did not have time to hide, which was why they found the smudged fingerprints. The baseball however, was still unclear. Was the killer hinting at his identity?

"Warrick where did you find that photo?" Catherine asked, putting on her glasses and a pair of latex gloves, looking at the miniature.

"Uhm, in a photo frame here in the back," he replied, making his way over to stand next to her, pointing at the small side table, which had a few frames on it.

Catherine didn't look at where he indicated, as she looked sideways at her younger colleague. She shook her head and blinked, realizing she'd been a little distracted. "Sorry, where did you say?" She asked, turning to look in the direction of his pointing finger.

Warrick pointed again and she nodded. "Alright, thanks," she said, grabbing the tweezers to see if she could find more clues in the other frames.

Warrick shrugged, having noticed her preoccupation. "No problem," he smiled as he went back to his spot at the table. "This looks like a doll," he remarked, holding it under the magnifying lamp. "Where's the one from the other scene?" he asked.

Nick looked in the evidence box of the other case and grabbed the small paper bag containing the little photograph.

Warrick pulled it out with another pair of tweezers as he examined them both under the magnifying lamp. "Seems to be the same doll," he concluded. "But just from a different angle."

Nick nodded. "Well I can't seem to get anything from this baseball. It doesn't make any sense. What would a twenty-three year old woman be doing with a baseball? We didn't find a bat anywhere in the house."

Warrick grimaced. "Great, so all we really have is a smudged fingerprint."

**TBC**


End file.
